Pretty Girls Bleed Flowers
by Calla Mae
Summary: She'd won her life in a coin toss, and she'd chosen to follow him. She followed him over land and the bodies he left behind. She'd follow him to hell. This pretty empty girl. He'd kill her one of these days. The only thing stopping him was the possibility she might kill him first.
1. Chapter 1

_I don't know if there's a good reason to have thought up this story other than I enjoyed the character Chigurh and the actor who played him. I hope to do him, the movie, and the book justice even though this story won't hold a candle to any._

 _I won't write more than what he's doing (I'm not so bold as to pretend I know how he thinks), so every look he gives is important. And my character is...well, ya'll will see what she's like.  
Also, may be good for me to point out now this 'relationship' is a bit screwed up...and the rating will most likely change to M in a couple chapters for more mature scenes. _

_Anyways, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy._

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A dark shadow hovered quietly in the doorway watching the woman being fucked. The way her small pale body jerked with each careless thrust of his hips, her thin arm slung across his shoulders cradling him as he pounded into her, and how the warm sun streaked through the open window dancing over her yellow hair. Her head was turned to the side, away from him, taking a drag of her cigarette. Bouncing to his quickening rhythm she slowly exhaled watching the smoke dissipate in the air.

With a choked groan he came and rolled off of her, she having filled her use. Another puff and she swung her legs over the side of the bed and looked up through the window at the clear blue sky.

"Where you goin?" he demanded. Possessive.

A bird caught her eye and she followed it from one edge of the window to the other until it too disappeared. She wondered what that'd be like. "To take a bath." Wash your filth outta me, but she didn't say that last part.

A finger wrapped around one of her loose curls tugging on it lightly. "I'm hungry."

Then do something about it. "Want me to go to Mabel's?" She released a wall of smoke on a heavy sigh.

"Aw baby," he said reaching for her, his wet mouth trailing up her shoulder to the crook of her neck. "You're too good to me." He tucked her hair behind her ear running his thumb over the swell of her cheek as she turned to face him.

He had beautiful hazel eyes, her favorite goddamn color. For a fleeting moment she imagined digging the sharp nails of her thumbs in those eyes. She smiled rounding her cheeks and sweetening her cherubic face. "I love you," she told him even sweeter.

A slow grin spread on his handsome face warming him in the ways only she could. Sitting up he took her face in his hands and kissed her fiercely, pouring every ounce of love in his wretched soul into that girl.

As he laid back she turned letting her face fall to stone raising the cigarette to her reddened lips. Standing she grabbed her pants and his shirt and pulled them on.

"Love you baby."

Her small feet paused in the doorway and she huffed a stream of smoke through her small pointed nose – seeing a shadow out of the corner of her right eye. With a face as dead as her beating heart she gave a quiet, "yeah," and headed for the door.

The diner was a two minute walk from their house and she'd hoped the fresh air would do her some good. There wasn't anything fresh about the still hot air, and there wasn't anything good about her.

She was a sight to see as the bells strung on the door tinkled; pale hair hanging around her youthful face, the collar of Ronnie's too-big shirt fell to the middle of her chest showing every bit of her sternum and the soft skin stretched over it, and her bare feet moving over the cool tile.

"Mornin dear," Mabel greeted as she slid into a stool at the counter.

"Is it still morning?" she asked not knowing the time.

Mabel looked at the watch her husband had gotten her for her birthday. "Will be for three minutes more. Ronnie want his usual?" The girl nodded. "You want anything?" she always asked.

"No ma'am," she always answered.

Fifteen minutes she sat on the stool with her arms folded over the sticky counter pretending to listen to Mabel talking about her boys. She asked after Mabel's husband and nodded with contrived sympathy at hearing he'd been in an accident at work.

"What about you?" Mabel asked setting the bag on the counter and ringing her up. "Anything new?"

Grabbing the plastic of the bag she slid off the stool. "Nothin's ever new."

Mabel's smile widened. "I see Ronnie proposed," she cooed looking at the shiny ring on her long slender finger.

She looked at it and the way the light caught the little diamonds making them shimmer. It was heavy. She gave a quiet, "yeah."

"I miss bein young and in love," Mabel said patting her hand and letting her go.

She grinned taking her change and left, the little bells tinkling as they hit the door. Before it swung closed she had a cigarette stuck between her lips and a lighter in hand. Her going was slower, her asphalt-warmed feet dragging. She convinced herself it was to finish the cigarette.

With a vacant emptiness to her face she wearily moved up the driveway to the front door. It stuck halfway hitting the overturned coat rack. Squeezing through the small opening she pushed the door closed with her elbow staring curiously at where it'd fallen across the doorway. That was odd.

She moved past the hall through the living room and stopped in the archway to the kitchen staring down where Ronnie lay wide eyed on the floor with a hole in his head. She blinked at those glassy hazel eyes. Curiouser and curiouser.

A broad shadow almost double the width of her hovered behind the pantry watching her and the way her head tilted on a long thin neck. Like a little bird. She let the bagged food drop to the floor and turned back to the hall, her small feet creaking on the stairs. The shadow followed.

Her eyes were raised to the empty shower curtain rod and the few plastic rings that had stuck when the curtain was yanked off. She then bent to turn on the faucet and stood pulling off her clothes letting them pool around her feet. The water was a touch too warm as she stepped in but she lowered her body in anyway.

There was a soft splash as a drop of water fell from the leaky faucet. She watched another grow slowly until it was too heavy and dripped from the rusted metal. Her breathing was even, her heart slow, her mind heavy. It hit her all at once, as it often did - the drip of the faucet, the beat of her heart, the rush of breathing, the weight of this life.

Her head ducked under the water and she screamed a high piercing thing heard only by her. Her eyes were screwed shut and her hands were hooked like claws around the edge of the tub, her mouth open wide. The water bubbled above her.

She broke the surface and leaned her warm shoulders against the cool tub breathing deep and slow as water dripped from her face. "I know you're there." Her voice was soft and light.

There was an audible pause in the hall to her right before the clap of a boot sounded on the tile as he stepped into the bathroom. She turned seeing him sitting on the lid of the toilet staring at her with eyes dark enough to have been black.

This went on for some time him staring unblinking at her and her blinking slowly at him. Neither spoke. He had the advantage and she sat vulnerable unconcerned. The stiff peaks of her small breasts rose out of the water with every calm breath. There was a wrongness to her he found familiar. "How,"

"I saw you watchin me," she answered before he could finish asking.

She'd known he was there before she left. He blinked several moments considering that, considering her. "I wasn't watching you," he told her, his accented voice a quiet grumble.

The corner of her mouth curled just a little. "Course you wasn't." Her own accent was thick but not in the way of Spanish such as his, hers came from so deep in the country corn oughta been growing in her throat.

He watched her eyes close as she leaned back looking for all the world like she was content. "You know what comes next."

"Yeah," she mumbled through half parted lips.

This was new to him – not an ounce of fear or a will to fight. Unfeeling. "You want to die?"

"No," she said with the slow shake of her heavy head. "I'm just tired of living." The water wasn't so scalding anymore, her pinkened skin had grown used to the heat. There was a flutter of something in her chest that almost felt like longing.

"Call it."

Her eyes opened seeing the crack in the wall that looked like the Choke Canyon Reservoir – she knew that because she spent so often in the tub staring at it. She turned to his expressionless face, his wide nose and his round dark eyes, that god-awful hair. "Call it as in a coin toss?" she asked him.

Nodding he answered with a simple, "yes."

She sighed sinking lower in the water almost in defeat. "There an option where you just kill me?" His face was unchanged. "Tails then."

He lifted the hand from his knee to see her fate. "My lucky day right?" Her sweet voice had him looking up and all he saw as she stared at the lip of the tub was resignation. As if life to her was as inconvenient as it was inevitable.

It was settled then. "Well," she sighed climbing to her feet hearing the splash of water as it poured from her body. He was looking up at her waiting, the silver coin still poised over his knee. "You gonna hand me the towel." The way she said it sounded more a demand than a request. All the same he grabbed the soft towel from the hook beside him and held it out for her.

She patted herself dry, propping a foot on the edge of the tub to run the towel over each leg, across her chest, between her legs, and finally she was half bent with her back to him working it over her wet hair. Satisfied she turned back to him with it hooked on her finger. She held his dark eye as he took it from her and then she turned making her way to the bedroom.

Slow to follow he first set the damp towel on the hook before moving into the hall, peering around the doorway to see flashes of her skin as she stood at the dresser.

She rifled through the drawers settling with a pair of high waisted jeans and she set them on top of the dresser and began looking for a shirt that wasn't Ronnie's. A large hand gently pulled the bra out of her grasp and set it back in the drawer. She turned to him looking first at his straight face and then to the black crochet halter top he extended to her.  
Ronnie got it for her, he liked that he could see most of her skin through the loose yarn. With that thought in mind she looked back up at this strange dead eyed man. But she took it, and he held her eye several breaths longer before quietly making his way downstairs. A thought came to her, a wondering that made her smile.

She found him in the kitchen at the stove turning each knob so that it clicked letting only gas out. Her quick mind caught on and she moved behind him reaching into one of the drawers for a roll of foil. Unmoving he watched her tear a sheet, looking beyond that to see her creamy skin peeking through the chain of yarn. His head turned with her as she walked to the microwave placing the foil inside and setting the timer for five minutes. It wouldn't need even half that.

He followed the swinging of her hips as she made for the door, stopping to grab a faded green jacket from off the back of the couch. He followed her into daylight closing the door after them.

That was that then.

Returning to the car he'd picked up along the way he looked up at the passenger door opening and watched with wide eyes her slide in beside him. With a brow poised in question she returned his quiet stare finding in his mild surprise he looked almost sweet.

Several moments they shared a long searching look until he reached a decision and started the car.


	2. Chapter 2

There was quiet between them. Not the separating kind of quiet, it was the kind they shared. His and hers laced together. And the wind that was whistling through the half rolled down window blowing strands of her pale gold hair so that he could smell her shampoo. And the smoke.

The only words that passed between them was when she'd asked in her airy child-like voice, "you mind?" He'd done nothing more than look to see she had an almost empty pack of Camels in hand. And then he'd turned back to the road. A few seconds later his hair was ruffled by the warm air she let in. Even after she finished she kept the window down enjoying the breeze. It smelled like freedom.

After a long time when the late afternoon sun had warmed her and her eyes had grown heavy she propped her feet up on the dash stretching her short legs. The steady hum of the car lulled her eyes into closing.

A short while passed and he felt a soft weight on his shoulder that steadily grew heavier as she sunk more against him. He continued driving.

Coming up on a stop sign at an empty intersection he paused staring at the slowly setting sun hearing her even breaths whispering in his ear. There was a dusting of freckles over her nose and the apples of her cheeks, a few were dark like the one on the bridge of her nose marring her otherwise pretty face. A few strands of hair had blown across her mouth and they rose and fell in tune with her breathing. He didn't brush them out of her face nor did he move her. He let it be and turned back to the road.

The sudden dip of the front right tire in an unseen pothole jolted her awake and upon sitting up she found the day had darkened and the air outside had cooled. Looking at the signs out of the window she realized they were just outside of Abilene.

At seeing she was awake he pulled into the first place he saw that was open. It was a small diner with a parking lot holding three other cars and a half lit sign that spelled in red letters 'DI_E_.' It seemed fitting.

They climbed out into the still night hearing the stuttering buzz of the flickering letters. He pulled the heavy door open and waited feeling her slip beneath his arm inside.

There was a balding man in forties huddled against the counter nursing a cup of coffee the cook and a waitress, who paused at the sight of the odd pair before coming over with two menus. "We'll sitcha right here," she said leading them to a booth. They were fixin to close in a half hour and her tired smile was strained. "Can I get ya'll somethin to drink while you look at the menu?"

"Water," the younger woman answered. Her friend, who was a good ten years her senior, looked up at the waitress and nodded – she took that to mean he wanted the same but something about his still face had her holding her tongue.

When she came back with their glasses their menus were sat on the table and they were sharing some kind of look. In fact, she didn't think they'd said a single word to each other since they'd came in. "Ya'll know what you're orderin?"  
Without taking his eyes from the girl he ordered a burger, everything on it. The girl's face was softer in the way the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned as she stared at him. She ordered the steak fingers.

The woman, whose powder blue uniform bore the name Luella, took note of the shirt she wore beneath the old green jacket and the skin she could see through it. She might as well have not been wearing anything at all. "Miss you can't be wearin that in here."

She watched his dark eyes flick toward the poorly aging woman, his mouth pulling tighter. "What does it matter to you what she wears?" he asked simply.

"Sir," the waitress said, her eyes falling to the girl before she took a breath and looked to him, "you can see her breasts."

"Why are you looking at her breasts?"

She sputtered, her eyes widening as they once more glanced at the girl, and her tantalizing skin peaking through the hoops of black yarn. "I'd nev-"

"Then I ask you again: what does it matter to you what she wears?"

For a moment it was quiet, the cook and the other patron looking over at their table waiting. "This is a fine establishment, we've got other customers."

"One."

"Scuse me?"

His shoulders rose as he inhaled sharply. "You have one customer," he said nodding to the man at the counter behind them. "He cannot see her. Only I see her."

She looked at him with widened eyes nearly shaking in frustration. She'd demand they leave on the claim of inappropriate attire, she'd always been too big for her britches. But again the blackness of his inky stare made her mouth dry and she had trouble speaking.

"Less you are lookin."

They both turned at her gentle voice to see her staring serenely up at the woman, having positioned herself so that the jacket fell open more.

"I don't mind." Her voice sounded more a breath drawing the waitress to her, and the man across from her.

He watched the older woman's throat bob as she swallowed, her gaze continuing to fall below the girl's shoulders. "Maybe you could place our order," he offered quietly snapping the woman out of it as she rushed away with a reddened face.

She turned back to him with the hint of a grin shining in her mischievous eyes, one he almost returned.

Their food came and they ate in silence. The other man left, the cook cleaned the kitchen and offered to help close but the waitress shooed him home to his wife. It was just the two of them, she could handle that.

She watched him watch the waitress with a steeled edge to his features as she bustled about pretending to be busy as she waited for them to finish up so she could go home too. There weren't many cars out now and the streetlight had been out for a month making the parking lot outside seem impenetrably dark.

He held the door open for her again letting her walk beneath his raised arm. "Go to the car," he told her in a voice more gentle than any part of his being.

Her brow raised but she offered no argument. She walked across the parking lot looking over her shoulder long enough to see him slip into the shadows as he walked around the back of the building. He seemed to be a shadow himself.

The lights inside the diner were flipped off leaving only the red glow of the sign to illuminate a small area of the lot. There was hardly a sound around them, the rush of a car somewhere down the dark street, a dog barking, the clap of a metal door swinging closed, two loud clicks echoing in the night.

He found her leaning against the trunk of the car bathed in the red glow. Her elbows were held on the trunk behind her pushing her chest forward so that he saw almost every inch of her. His feet stepped in the place hers parted close enough he could hear her breathing, his head stealing the light so that it shown behind him a bloody halo. Their faces were shadowed and they saw only the gleam of the other's eyes. Their quiet ebbed and flowed drawing them closer.

"Was the cook waitin?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You get 'em both?"

"Yes."

She paused thinking over the details, the big rig that had once stretched over half the lot now long gone. "Trucker passin through?"

"Yes," his voice was softer this time at seeing how quick she was catch on. The two were dead out back and by the time the trucker came this way again he wouldn't remember either of their faces.

Pushing off the car her body brushed his as she stepped around him and climbed in the passenger's side. Getting in after her he started the car and pulled out onto the main road. By the time morning came and someone found the bodies he planned for the two of them to be long gone.

It wasn't until she yawned that he looked at the time and he stopped at the first motel they passed. She didn't need to be told to wait in the car while he got the room, he left and she waited. He came back and drove them around the side of the motel where their room was.

He watched her face as she passed under his arm and flicked on the light seeing there was only one bed. He was looking for any rise out of her, and she wouldn't give him one.

Shrugging out of the jacket she laid it over the dresser and slipped her feet out of her shoes leaving them beside his boots. He set his heavy coat over hers and held her watchful eye as he pulled the shirt from his waistband and began unbuttoning it. Her response was to pull the crotched top over her head and place it on top of where he'd set his. He undid his belt buckle and pulled his pants off standing before her wearing only his underwear, while she wiggled out of her tight pants and stood before him wearing nothing.

Their eyes remained glued to the other's and their breathing had deepened. She stepped to him hooking her fingers beneath the elastic and pulled it slowly from his hips letting it fall to his ankles. His hands remained at his side even though she stood so close he could feel her soft breasts brush his middle with every breath. Her warm breath curled beneath his chin as she looked up at him.

"What's your name?"

He was quiet a moment blinking down at her as he considered answering her. "Anton," he finally decided.

He didn't look like an Anton but then again she wasn't sure if he looked like anything. Anything other than just…him. "Ask me mine."

"I already know your name."

"Ask me anyway."

Her chin grazed his collar bone and he blinked knowing it'd be a mistake. "What is your name?"

She looked between his eyes for any sign of anything, she only saw her own face reflected back. "Lane," was her quiet answer.

He'd named her then. He guessed that made her his.

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 _With the next chapter the rating will change to M. Thank you_


	3. Chapter 3

It was still dark when he woke. The space she'd been taking up beside him was empty though the sheets were still warm. He heard the muffled rushing of water from the bathroom to his right and upon turning to the nightstand he it was only four-thirty.

She stood under the warm spray with her eyes closed in a way that was almost peaceful. The last of the soapy bubbles were slowly sinking down the drain. She found him standing with his shoulder against the wall a silent observer and she wondered how long he'd been there. If he liked what he saw, if the vacant expression on his face was regret at letting her come this far with him. She wouldn't go back, not when she'd finally reached the day where tomorrow didn't seem so impossible.

He handed her a towel as she slipped around him. And with his head turned toward her he stepped into the shower feeling the prickling of his skin at the sudden heat. He turned the faucet to cool and when he looked back she had the towel over her hair and her eyes slowly trailing up his body starting from his feet. She didn't look at only the parts of him she wanted nor did she pause on any one stretch of skin. She took all of him in from his toes to his knees to the width of his thighs the penis hanging between them the soft curl of his hips the dip of his belly button the sharp point of his elbows the thin patch of dark hair in the center of chest and the lovely curve of his collar bone. And then his face, but she knew that well by then.

His round eyes were a mix of dead and warm. Had anyone ever looked at him so closely as to see the sum of all his parts? With a blink of her gentle eyes she left him in the shower and began to dress.

The room was empty when he came out of the bathroom. The light that hung over the bed was on and the door was held open by the latch she'd set to catch it. The morning was new as it slowly awakened, the first hint of light peaking over the horizon. The air was chilled with the coming of winter.  
She was sitting cross legged on the trunk of the car staring at the sky smoking. Always smoking. The car dipped under his weight as he sat beside her letting his long legs dangle over the side as he folded his hands in his lap.

They shared the quiet morning, him still as death and her every so often raising her hand to her mouth where red embers glowed as she breathed. The sky turned purple and then pink as the sun rose higher. "It's beautiful," she mused before she raised her chin and blowing a thin stream of smoke into the dim lighted morning.

"What is beautiful about watching the sun rise?" he asked finding no use for such things.

She turned blowing smoke at him. "Hell if I know."

"Then why say it?"

She shrugged turning back to the pink sky that now slowly began turning orange. That'd been the color of their kitchen, because when Ronnie had asked her favorite color she'd told him a sunrise. "It's what you're s'posed to say."

Someone at some point had convinced her she needed to be like everyone else and the effort was slowly killing her like a terrible illness. He glanced over the span of her emotionless face.

Lowering the hand that held the cigarette delicately between two fingers she turned to him. "We goin after Ronnie's brother." It wasn't a question, she knew they were on their way to Plainview. More than that she'd known the mess the brother had gotten themselves into, no matter that Ronnie had tried running from it.

He already knew she was quick and so his thoughts were stuck on how casually she'd said we. As if already knowing her only chance at living was with him. "Does that trouble you?" he asked having yet to see much care in her besides the ring that glittered on her finger.

It didn't. In truth she hadn't liked either brother, Ronnie happened to be easier to fool. And a better lay. "Is that why you let me come, give him a friendly face?"

"No," he answered honestly.

"Good," was her satisfied response. She hopped down off the car and dropped her half smoked cigarette. He was watching her curious and unmoving. "Diner opens in an hour, someone'll be by soon and find the bodies."

She'd read his mind. With a faint curl to his otherwise straight mouth he slid off the car and followed her back to the room to collect the few things they'd brought. Within minutes they were back on the road with the early morning chill blowing through the window between them. They stopped to get coffee, at her sweet-voiced request, and a little before ten he pulled into the near empty parking lot of a clothing store.

Twenty minutes later she stood beside him at the register as their pile of clothes was rung up. "You wanna wear one of these?" the aging man asked seeing more of her than he felt the need to.

"No sir," she answered feeling him still beside her as he watched the man carefully.

"Well at least you got manners," he said slowly folding the clothes and putting them in a bag. Looking up from the flowerprinted dress he was stuffing into the bag he watched her move to the hat rack a few feet from the register. She returned to her man's side wearing a crisp white sun hat framing her pretty face. He watched her stony friend raise a large, gentle, hand to push it further back on her head and pause to appraise her. Silently he took the hat and set it on the pile. "How long have ya'll been together?"

"What business is that of yours?" he asked the older man.

He shrugged adding the hat to the total. "Didn't mean nothing by it mister, just tryin to pass the time."

"Who's that?"

The old cashier followed her gaze to the picture of a newborn stuck on the wall behind him. "My grandson. It's my daughter's store, I been watchin it since she had him."

Her smile was lazy and heavy lidded. "He's beautiful," she commented making the other man stand taller with pride.

"He'll be a strong boy, that's for sure." He told the man the total and took the bills handed to him watching the two depart. "Ya'll have a good day."

He didn't pay the man any mind but she turned back to the old cashier with a smile and a wave. But when she stepped onto the street he watched the care wilt from her face as her mouth returned to its perpetual frown. He held the door of the car open only so he could bend close to her ear and say, "you draw too much attention."

She made the mistake of turning to look at his dark eyes and the tip of her nose brushed his, with a sharp inhale he stood upright leaning back as though she'd shocked him. "There blood where we're headed?" she asked and he nodded. "Then I'll change when we're done." With that she slid into the seat and pulled the door out of his grasp closing it with a harsh clap.

For the first time quiet existed between them, it was his and hers and they weren't sharing. It was mostly his as she gazed out of the window while he drove. This impenetrable girl. "Do you like children?" he asked without taking his eyes off the road.

"No," was her immediate, toneless answer. But she turned realizing that's what his problem was, he was still trying to make sense of her. He'd learn eventually there wasn't much to make sense of. "They can't ask about you if they're too busy talkin bout themselves."

He finally looked to her then, understanding shining in his inky stare. Their silence intertwined settling in their bones tugging at them like two magnets held apart that once let go of would snap together at last.

Within an hour he pulled the green pickup behind a tall line of bushes two houses down from the one he wanted. From beneath a blanket behind their seats he pulled the shotgun out and held it over her lap and loaded it. He glanced at her curiously to find instead of warily watching his hands she was studying the weapon as though familiar with it. It was a twelve gauge Remington and on the end closest to her was a silencer about as big around as a beer can. Before he could tell her to stay in the truck she was climbing down onto the street and closing the door behind her.

She walked up the sidewalk and hooked a right around the bushes seeing a house she hadn't visited in at least two years. It looked the same, chipped paint, dying grass, thick curtains in the window hiding the elicit activities that went on inside.

In the reflection on the golden knocker she saw his dark shape moving behind her as he climbed the three stairs and stood to the left of the door hidden by the side of the house. She knocked twice, two loud final bangs that quieted the birds in the trees nearby. The hair on her arms stood on end buzzing with anticipation.

Upon seeing her lovely face in the peephole the door was thrust open as man bearing a striking resemblance to his older brother leaned against the doorframe. "Jesus Lanie," he breathed at the sight of her. He'd always liked her, couldn't understand what she'd seen in his coward of a brother.

The corner of her mouth lifted not from familiarity, she'd hated Deacon especially, but because he was still too far in the house to see what was waiting a couple feet around the corner. "Hey Deacon," was her cool greeting.

"Everyone thinks you died in the fire with Ronnie," he said not catching the way her faint grin spread to the other side of her mouth. "What the hell happened?" He pushed the door open further inviting her in.

"The best goddamn thing that could've."

In one quick motion he swung into the doorway raising the rifle over her shoulder level with Deacon's chest. With the click of the trigger Deacon's body was thrown back like a limp rag doll, and the sound that stuck in her ear was the metallic wheezing of the suppressor.

She felt him slip around her and step carefully around the blood now pooling on the blue carpet. Without a word she pushed the door shut behind her and looked down at Deacon, the dark red of his blood spreading faster than the carpet could soak up. A couple months ago Ronnie had asked her what her favorite color was and she'd told him a sunrise, but it was this. It was even better that it wasn't her own.

When he returned to the front of the house, four rounds less, he found her standing over Deacon as he gurgled, blood pouring from his mouth hazel eyes wide and pleading as he stared up at her. His body convulsed several long seconds before he stilled and the light in his eyes slowly dimmed leaving them dull and glassy.

She'd known dead men and she'd seen men killed but she'd never seen a man die. Looking up she met his dark watchful eyes, her chest heaving as he inched closer. Leaning the rifle against the wall he stepped against her backing her toward the door and he pressed himself against her pinning her to it so that she felt him stiff against her hip and he felt the quick rise and fall of her chest. His nose brushed the crown of her head as she stared up at him. She was almost shaking with need and he felt that in his quickening pulse.

The click of the handle jolted them both and he stepped back pulling the door open. She slipped beneath his arm leaving him to grab his rifle and follow the glow of her pale gold hair back to the truck. They drove with her window down cooling her warm skin, and his though he'd never admit she had any affect on him.

He drove south stopping only to ditch the truck. She'd picked a faded blue Ford Falcon and sat with an arm propped on the open window letting her hair blow and tangle in the wind. It blew in through the window ruffling his hair, bringing the scent of soap with it. She smelled like him.

They were about ten miles from Uvalde when he'd had enough and began looking for motels. It didn't matter that it was dinner time and they hadn't stopped for lunch. She sat in the car watching him walk inside the front office to get a room, the stiff sway of his hips. Her eyes were warm when he opened the door and stared down at where she sat. He saw the way she inhaled as he reached across for the bag of the clothes, and because he was callous he left her there to follow him to the room.

A single bed, again. The burgundy carpet was shaggy and the print on the wall was loud and cluttered, and the dim yellow lights that hung above the bed illuminated half of the room. Shrugging out of her jacket she turned to see him in the doorway watching her almost though he wasn't sure exactly what she wanted.

Dropping her jacket on the ground she stepped to him and gently unfurled his fist letting the bag fall. With her hands around the collar of his coat she worked it over his broad shoulders and down his arms letting it fall over the bag. He blinked letting her untuck his shirt as she undid every button achingly slow. Reaching the top most button she snuck her hands beneath the collar feeling the breath go out of him as her palms ran over his shoulders and down the length of his arms dropping his shirt in a pile behind him. He was so still watching her watch him as her greedy little hands demanded what she wanted.

It wasn't until she unfastened the buckle of his belt that he finally responded. He stepped forward against her pushing her back. She was too short to kiss and he wouldn't bend. The back of her calves hit the edge of the bed cornering her as he stood with his shoulders hunched to see her face. Dropping a knee on the mattress his hips were heavy on hers forcing her down and with a knee on either side of her he leaned forward settling over her.

He waited staring down at her feeling her chest rise against his as she breathed, the soft brush of her nose against his chin. Without warning her palm cracked against his cheek and he sat up dark brows drawn together. Her face was soft as she gazed up at him but her eyes were glittering. She hit him again and this time he wasn't surprised. "Yes ma'am," was his quiet reply.

Grabbing her hips he threw her onto her stomach and a gasp was forced from her lungs as her chest hit the mattress. She'd just gotten an arm under her to push herself up when his hands gave a sharp tug on the waistband of her jeans and she fell against the bed again. She smiled against the quilt at feeling the button snap as he pulled the pants down to her knees. He wasted enough time to unzip his pants and pull himself free before he was inside her, fucking her, rough and demanding.

She rocked against the squeaking bed in time to the jerk of his hips feeling the sharp bite of his zipper digging into the soft flesh between her thighs. Her dry lips caught on the quilt as she panted, hearing his heavy breaths as he bent over her. His pace quickened and her hands grabbed at the fabric trying to find some semblance of control but she only found his hand and her nails dug into his palm as her fingers curled in the spaces between his.

His other hand wrapped tight around her pretty blonde hair and pulled forcing her head back choking the moan that clawed at her throat. Leaning forward he thrust deeper feeling her body shudder and buck against him. Her sweet voice cried out with every wave of pleasure and he rode through them releasing his grip on her hair as she wilted against the bed.

Her face was pressed to the quilt her eyes closed in bliss. He laid over her smothering her and his hips jerked once more against her before he groaned – he came the way lived, holding nothing back.

He was heavy on top of her, his forehead against the covers his cheek pressed to her temple feeling the fluttering of her pulse. His neck was against her ear and she couldn't hear anything but the pounding of her own heart, and maybe his too. For what seemed like the first time in forever, she finally felt alive.


End file.
